Rise of the Darkin
by AatroxAirlines
Summary: Ancient evils known as the Darkin have been freed and they seek vengeance on the human race for their imprisonment. Will the humans be able to fend them off or will the Dakin prevail, ending all life? Rated M for gore, character death and such.
1. Chapter 1

Darkness.

An ominous silence follows.

Who am I?

Memories of countless battles flood my mind. Images of me and my brothers slaying creatures of the Abyss flash in front of me. Then, images of us fighting each other in pure, unrestrained war.

Wait.

Us?

... Yes.

Now I remember. Now I remember everything.

We had fended off the abyssal invasion, though at a great cost to our bodies. And minds.

The only one we ever bowed to, Emperor Azir, died. We waged war against our own kind, the Ascended God-Warriors of Shurima.

War?

No.

That was no mere war. It was a conflict of the immortals. A war of _gods._

Dozens of us God-Warriors and millions mortals fought. Our battles consumed us. The butchery. The carnage. The unbridled, uninhibited fury. Hundreds, if not thousands of years had passed.

Setaka, the strongest and noblest of us all, fell during those wars. We only fell further into madness.

One of us retrieved Setaka's blade, the Chalicar. He tried to reason with us, to reunite us, to make us believe that we could be the divine and almighty beings we used to be.

How foolish.

We were but shadows of our former selves, bodies ravaged by our endless battles and minds shattered by the Abyss.

But... The _imbecile_ and his supposed slave had tricked us.

The trickster gave him the tools to trap us.

She took away our freedom.

She took away our nobility.

She took away our power.

He died for his deeds. I envy him...

I am trapped inside cutlery. The feeling of helplessness gnaws at my mind for what feels like... Years? No. Much longer.

_Millenia._

Where are my brothers? Are they even alive?

How do I get out?

* * *

I sense a mortal nearby.

I struggle to open the one eye I have, my only sense in this crude prison of a sword.

Wait.

Where am I?

I look around and see a room made of red bricks. No windows. An underground chamber perhaps. It is dimly lit by a torch.

A torch?

A torch. And a mortal holding it. And another mortal next to him, pointing at me.

Is this my chance?

I need to use these mortals. I need to break free. I can't stand this prison.

Not anymore.

The one holding the torch walks to me reluctantly. I see his lips moving, saying something to the other one. His companion runs out of the room. The one in front of me follows. I watch in dismay.

Did I just... Did I just lose the chance? Maybe the only one?

I stare at the staircase they came from, not believing my eye.

I wish I could die.

But I cannot. This immortality is...

A _curse._

* * *

A while after, a dozen mortals enter the room, the two from before leading them. Or was it just now? I know not. I lost track of time milleniums ago. Though it matters not. They walk to me. The one holding the torch hands it to the other.

He grasps me. Lifts me off the ground.

This is it.

I invade his mind.

I'm in a body which is but a crude approximation of what I used to be. How far I've fallen...

He sees me and, frightened, turns to run. I thrust my blade into his midsection and his bloody insides spill down on the roof of a building we are standing on - his inner world.

I pull my sword out of the bloody mess, relishing in the feeling of killing again. His body falls with a _thud._

I watch through my sword's eye. His flesh is decaying and adopting the color of dried blood. It has already started to rot and wither away. Plates of armor and a horned helmet adorn my new body.

I finally have eyes. Eyes to see the frightened mortals.

I finally have ears. Ears to hear my blade travel through the air, cleaving one of them in half. Ears to hear his scream.

So I slice another mortal in two. And another. And another. The others stare in horror.

Carnage.

My last joy.

I feel their blood splash me, the crude flesh reforming to make a closer match to my old self.

But I cannot reach my former glory. I am... Damned.

I drink from them. My own form strengthens with every life I end, with every body I tear asunder.

Yes... This is my purpose.

All will die.

The screams of agony and disbelief fill the air, along with the sound of my blade tearing air, flesh and bone alike.

There is one left.

Eyes clouded with tears, the mortal begs for his life.

Yes.

Beg for mercy. But I offer **none.**

I am Aatrox.

I am the cruel one.


	2. Chapter 2

The wagoner pulled the reins to the two horses, the carriage stopping near a house.

"Last stop, get outta there!" the wagoner yelled. The door opened, revealing a carriage full of boxes, a couple and two small kids. The man, a farmer by the looks of it, got out first and helped his wife and kids get out.

"Care to give us a hand?" the farmer asked. "Of course..." the wagoner's voice trailed off as he lit a cigar. The farmer took one of the many boxes and told his wife to unlock the house, leaving it inside. The wagoner pulled a few smokes, exhaling them contentedly in small circles before grabbing a box of his own.

Soon after, they finished moving the boxes and the wagoner bid the couple farewell, turning his horses away and going in the direction where they came from.

* * *

Early next morning, just after daybreak, the farmer went to observe his new field.

"Corn here, wheat there, a row of tomatoes there, a few rows of apple trees over there..." The farmer thought out loud as he stroked his beard.

He put on his gloves, grabbed his shovel and started digging a hole, intent on planting the trees. He opened a shallow hole in the soil and took one of the saplings he had brought, putting it in the hole and filling the free space around it with pitch black, fertile soil from a bag. He watered the sapling, careful not to stir up the soil too much.

He carried the remaining saplings, water, fertilizer and shovel a few feet away from the sapling. The farmer wiped a few droplets of sweat with the back of his hand, burying the shovel into the ground and pulling it out along with a pile of dirt. He repeated the same process and planted another sapling.

* * *

*thud*

Something just hit me.

*thud*

Have they finally found me?

*thud*

I open my eye, but my surrounding is devoid of light - just like the last time I checked. And the one before. And the one before that.

*thud*

My eye is greeted with daylight and I'm forced to blink. I see a mortal look at me questioningly. We stare at each other silently for a while, none of us even blinking.

"Hello." I finally utter. "H-h-hello..." the mortal stammers.

Was it because a scythe talked to him? Was it because of my deformed voice? Or was it because he knows what I am?

"Need some help with your, uh, digging?" I asked in the calmest voice I could muster.

"Uh... N-n-no th-thanks..."

No, there's no way he knows. It's been thousands of years. He has heard legends, at best.

"Fine, but just get me out of this hole, the view isn't the best here." Obeying, the farmer lifted me and placed me next to the hole.

And I take the chance.

We are now in a field of wheat ready for harvesting. The crops are everywhere and most of them reach up to one's waist.

I see him standing merely a few feet away from me, holding a death grip on his shovel. I glance at my own body from my scythe's crimson eye and see my... demonic features. A long, horned helmet adorning my head, a gauntlet and a plate on my right hand and left shoulder, respectively. My skin took on color slightly paler than that of dried blood and various bumps and cracks adorned it. The most noticeable oddity on my body was on my chest: dark orange stripes spread from where my heart should be, making my presence feel truly... ominous.

"Don't worry partner, I only mean to help you."

My voice was deformed and hollow, perhaps a result of millenia of imprisonment. Or a result of millenia of carnage before that.

"H-help me with what?" The farmer is almost paralyzed by fear.

Yes... Fear is a weapon.

"I'm a farmer too, you know? But I specialize in... Harvesting." I slowly approach him and raise my scythe's blade to his throat.

"Let Rhaast take over... partner."


End file.
